— ma. sion, that bad shaken bm. Yes, surely she would not love him any less if she knew. With she thought, as siways, came the common words he mass tell it in. The last wave of hot, rebellions sickness thas rolled over bim left bim weak, bus feeling Pennsylvania Dateb is no small portion of is, and a rebabilitation, resulting from Forty Yenrs in lowa. | do - at my “Bemorraii Watdpman would have bad a horror of me {Written for the Warcnuax and Continued from issue she terror that sarned him cold, avd the | strangely clean and free. The ove thing be | married you, and you bad never known, of January 2:ud.] contact with wisty- gine De Moines “papers — sick disgost that unmanned bi at he | ould do was to try to make Winifred uun- when Jou found it ous in the future Hite, Des Moines, (pronounced De Moin) the | 80d periodicals a » sprinkling of the : - i notion of dragging avytbing ean into | derstand. n ou sre, I bardly know w in | “old home’’ weeklies, access to a publio li- i efotie, Pa : February 3 0 — | that soaring Re ber girlish love wd | Off in the east the full moon was rising, | am sayiug Winifred. capital of the State of Towa, is located in : ya | brary of 41,000 volumes, a like State li- brary of 200,000 volumes, should canse n surprise that we are devoid of oar birsus condition. Of later years the occasional idea that “out west’’ meant something terrible has become “‘lost in the shuflle’’ and especially since we are sending ‘‘coals to New Castle,” { and that we have room to spread out and the south central part of the State, orig- inally at the junction of the Dees Moines and Raccoon rivers, the former flowing across she entire width from north to south, the latter throngh its leagsh from the west to the junction in the now central portion of the city. The population has now passed the 100, 000 wark and covers, rather densely, per- | aps three-fourths of its filty-four sqnare then some. A good old aunty in Howard, miles, aud in a commercial sense, outranks | forty years ago, as we started ‘‘west,” any inland city west of Chicago. Depend- | asked shat we call on her coosin, John ent entirely upon agricultural pursuits aod | Packer, her knowledge or understanding of it« attendant requirements, its growth, life onr destination ‘‘ont west’’ as being a pre- and activity cannot be equalied by any |®eribed local community where everybody oity of its class, and being the veat of gov- kuew everybody. If an idea existe that ernment both Sate and county, in a large | © Are all in one place and liable to elbow measare accounts perbaps, for its prosper. | the other fellow’s ribs in turning around, ty. The country surrounding, as stated, | COME and see us, and be turned loose io in fact, the entire State, is given to agricul. | Fo8m Over five or six large public parks ture, though a vast area is uuderlaid with | that contain seven bandred acres, and if a good quality of coal, well calonlated for | sail in waut of more room and recreation, heating and manalactaring purposes. | there are a thousand or twelve hundred The substantial evidence of the claims acres just outside of the city limits, in the made, of growth and prosperity, is every- | *hape of an Army Post that accommodates where apparent, sod it might be of some | POW the Second U. S. Cavalry, the only interest to note some of the essentials that | full regimental Army Post our great na- are common to some cities of our class. | tion possesses ; well equipped in every par- While nos a city institntion, yes by a re- | ticular with modern, up-to-date buildings moval of the seat of government, after a | Of every description ; officer's family resi- prolonged contest covering several years, | dences, bachelor officer’s homes, hospital, fostered and prosecuted by a band of deter- | COMPANY quarters, guard house, store built for him. broad and mellow-gold. As be looked as How her insistent love had lighted up | is, the man’s face,al ways refined in feature, the chambers of bis heart—so empty that | took on a spiritual fineness to mateh. There be had not even realized their emptiness ! | seemed something fundamentally brave and Aud, almost without his own volition, he | noble about the world. And Winifred ? had let is move on toward iss falfilmens. He drew a sobbing breath. He would do A week —only a week to decide, and to face | what he could; that fondamental goodness the consequences | Worse still, to see Wini- | muss take care of Winifred. fred face shem ! With an inward groan he | He =at at his desk that night until long | think I could not bear a word of it upon bent his head forward, and les the little | alter midnight. Just as he was finishing your lips. And if you mean to send me machine out to the top of its speed. The | the last sheet his desk telephone rang, and | away, I shall need no further punishment. road was good: she blithe mounsain wiud ' after a brief dialogue, he took his bat aod | Bas if you will les me take you again into raced across hi= face ; but Winifred, with | case and went to answer the night call. | my arms, oh, little spotless child | I shall her sweet, searching eyes and her soft, up- This, in part, was the letter : | know all I can hear. In spite of all I bave Jed HUT 8) HUTS IoTCOrULLY eager to be | “LITTLE child, if you suffer when you | said, I can’t belp hoping. Bat, ob, I i dread the shock of this for you!" He remembered the first night he bad | reall Wiis; ple k yy ih ve sued; That was the lester. The next evening been summoned to the old professors. He | waitin ' I ER il ou what 1 have P you when the doctor, worn and restless and could see the fine, tortared face and the | - ug exvinio much un way be, af} haggard, walked up the path between the white hair of the old man, and the child Eid pain, y De, | lilac hushes, the figare cronching on the Sauiling heside hiethe Jay, panies, “It iv something about my early youth yo flew like sowe white bird to bs flinching, and when the dauger was past | it happened before you were horn, 1 snp- | mised her ionate eyes to the doctor as | pose. I was a medical student in Riech- if he bad heen a god. Through all the ive ond, Bey A minate, years since then he had heen summoned | : ; : | dark, handsome girl she was, little child, | Jory oie 1o¥ke old was bo Jane ig and I wasin love with ber. Never mind odie tn a matter of course 101 | 4, or why; those are questions [ have nos him to fight through the dangerous mo- ments of the old man’s life, with Winifred, white faced, hut watchfal eyed, standing “One word more. Yom will forgive me for waiting so long. I bad not made up my mind I muss tell you till to-nighs. I shall send this to yon in the morning. To-mor- row, early, I must go over to Manitoa : I shall be gone ontil dark. And to morrow evening I am coming to you. Don’t talk tome about it Winifred, I beg you. I A SONG OF THE ROAD. Whatever the path may be, my dear, Let us follow it lar away from here, Let us follow it back to Yesteryear, Whatever the path may be: Again let us dream where the land lies sunny, And live, like the bees, on our hearts’ old honey, Away from the world that slaves for money— Come, journey the way with me. However the road may roam, my dear, Through =un or rain, through green or sere, Let us follow it back with hearts of cheer, However the road may roam; Ob, while we walk it here together, Why should we heed the wind and weather, When there on the hills we'll smelt the heather, And see the lights of home! Whatever the path may seem, my sweet, Let us take it now with willing feet, And time our steps to our hearts’ giad beat, Whatever the path may seem; Let the rond be rough that we must follow, What care we for hill or hollow, While here in our hearts, as high as the swal- low, We bear the same loved dream! ms. “Oh, master !"’ she breathed sobbiogly, “J pouldn’t have waited for yon another I—I know I shonid have died !"’ He sat down on the hench behind the trellis withont a word, and took her in his arms. At last he felt her draw a comnfort- | y . igh. heen able to answer for many years. [see | og A Soon a whis. now that the love did nos go very deep. It pered hoarsely, sammoning all the voice i i . | ' like a steady little su inne apie ol was what i= called infatnation. Neverthe bow. The fine, frail, conrageous old pro- i Sat, She Sed god ait) vi el went there, | “Ive all right—now,’’ came the muffled fessor, mortally afraid of the enemy whose | =, . | voice from his shoulder. power he would not acknowledge, always | or 2 monk 8 ip dg Sgt . | Something fell to the veranda floor with said that ball the battle was over when he | > | a sudden clatter in the stillness. It was somewhat older than I, had infinential con- | heard the dootor’s step on the walk. And EE Has NB win already sowemitel. Be} her little watch, which bad slipped from Winifred ? Winifred bad adored him and | 0 oo" C0 oie hand faced fel. | I'8 fastening at her belt. He stooped to inted hi naturally at fourteen | ¥. JaBceome, aben- ©" | rick it up, bot she stopped him imperious. appropr m-30 Daturally a "low, whom I liked. The girl, the land- | Ps ppet pe “Listen!” she said remorselally. However the road may roam, my sweet, Let it lead us far from mart and street, Out where the hiils and the heavens meet— However the road may roam; So, hand in hand, let us go together, And care no more for the wind and weather, And reach at last those hills of heather, Where gleam the lights of home. —By Mapisox Cawrix, —————————. A POINT OF HONOR. The sick man, with a sobbing sigh, turn- ed his bead on the pillow and closed bis eyes. At the sight, the doctor, at the foot of the bed, turned on his heel with a brisk, boyish movement, the tight lines of his finely scored face iudefivably softening in- to relief. But the girl, at ber father's head, did nos stir. She was young and tall, with a little, imperious head that wore ita bright bair consciously, like a crown. She bad a small, fair, irregular face, very lovely ; perplexing, too, in its mingling of inherited force and dignity with a sors of wilful helplessness. The dootor, after a brisk turn about the room, came and stood behind ber, looking over her shoulder at the man. It was then that Lie noticed that the tense figure of the girl was trembling. Soddenly, standing behind her, he laid a hand on each of her shoulders. Something iu his touch sommunicated bis relief to the girl. With wide eyes, and a movement that wae almost violent, she tarned about to look up into his face ; avd then, all at once, she had wilted hike a crumpled rose-leaf against his breast. That was she decisive moment. The dootor himself scarcely knew how it had happened. She had not fainted ; he had not intended it. So many things bad en- tered into it—his own strain, Winifred’s immeasurably greater. If ashe had not been thoroughly uwvstrung, it would not bave ned; and yet, he admitted, witha smile in the momentary somberness of bis eyes, it had to come sooner or later. He drew a sharp sigh. He was a man of forsy ; she was nineteen. That in iwelf was a canse for misgiving; bus that was not his gravest anxiety. What if— Well, the unspoken question bad come to haont the doctor thivagh his days. It lay down with bim at night ; it rose with him in the morning. Is weut with him through his round of calle; it sat beside the patient in bis office. Strangely enoagh, he was not # mao familiar with the wrestlings of she spirit. His instivet had always heen to keep ous of disagreeable aud morally difficuls things rather than to get ous ; and the one incident in his life in which thas inssinot had failed bim bad served to io: tensify the “natural tendency. For many years he bad lived in a world of his own oreating, a sot of uumoral world, nto which the more intimate questions of the spirit scarcely entered. It was a realm of the mind, and of the will in the service of the mind. Not an easy world, certainly : one could read that in the extreme thinness of his tall figure, in the many giay baits about the temuples,and in the intricate lines of the thin, fastidious face, with its deli. cate strength of chia, ite kind eyes, and its dominant nose. But it was a world he gloried in. He was rich in that unique idolatry of which people make toeir physician the hero. He bad some evemies-—wmen who resented his womanish delicacy of physique all the more because it seemed romehow justified by his wasouline ability and suc- cess, Occasionally, too, they resented their wives’ irrational faith in his power ; bus even envy itsell could find nothing further to resent, for his moral record was immaculate. People wondered, of course, why he did nos marry. He lived in the pleasant little brick cottage which served him for both howe and office, with she wi- lent old woman who bad been his honse- keeper ever since he had established him- sell in the town twelve or fourteen years before. “Emma,’’ he said to her one evening, as he pansed in his impatient way on the top step, ‘if any one calls for me, say I shall be back in an hour.” His motor runabout was at the curhatone. Acquaintances he met that evening found him absent minded. For the most part, he wtared straight ahead without seeing them, or glared at them with no sign of recogni tion. He wens on through the pretéy town without stopping. The soft chug chug of his little motor kept time to the throbbing of his thoughts. He was presently alove on a road that ran like a bufl-colored rib- bon out into the high, green plains, rich with purple flowering weeds, parallel with the distant mountains on the sky-line. The world was spread out around him like a orystal mirror, reflecting the face of an eternal beauty. The Rockies, golden buff in the evening light, stood ont, as if cut from agate, against a sky of opal. doctor drew a deep, sharp hreath,and gaz d about him. He was as keenly alive as a pagan to the heanty of the world. The thought shaped itself in his mind, and instantly assumed its relation to his other thoughts. He must have heen horn a pagan at hears, he re- fleoted impatiently. Most men do not live antil they are forty to have their first ex- perience of a moral straggle, he told him- self. Aud with his history ! The thought was keenly disquieting. He turned away from it. After all, why shoald he not go on as he was going ? Winifred ? Ah, yes ; that was it. He bad not thought he was capable of such tenderness as the obild had called np out of his heart. It was her utter trust, the extraordinary force of her innocent pas- The , sciously, what wonld bappen. He bad vight of the decisive moment. ailing; and just as he was leaving, her fath- er starsled him by asking him to prescribe ber with sharp, professional eyes; bad pat | to her quick. probing gaestions; had foand | something vagoely awiss ; and -Winifred | bad smiled waoly at his severity, witha look that baffled him. He bad ended hy | prescribing a tonic and more exercise, and | bad gone his way, puzzled, and indefinably | perturbed. And then,afser that night that | bad settled matters, she had character- istioally told him what the tromble bad been. ‘And you looked at my {longue—as il that were a vital organ—Old Doctor Stu- pid 1"? she began, with ber pretty jeering. She had clasped her slim bauds bebind his neck, avd leaned away from him, looking up into his eyes with a soft derision. Then, with one of ber sudden turns of mood she took oue of his bands in her own and beld it ahove ber heart, where he felt its strong beating. ‘‘It beats too hard,” she said gravely. ‘‘lt was wearing out.” That bad settled the doctor completely. But as he went to the old professor with the pews, he felt suddenly sorry for she frail old wan. Winifred was all he had -— Winifred, with her mother’s eyes. And she was so young! “I'll most gratefully leave you Winifred, doctor,” the old man had said, with a sad smile at his owu sell- ishness. So they had agreed between them, the two men, to leave it indefinite. Aud, as the moments, the doctor bad thought himself almost williug : was she not already his very own ? It was a summer night, avd Winifred was awaiting the end of the interview, »it- sing on the steps, balf-hidden by she trellis and the lilac-bushes which grew beside it. She was in ove of her gentlest moods, when she seemed to bim like a veritable child. He sat down beside her, and drew ber to him. **What did be say, master?" pered, her arms about his neck. “That he can’s spare yon yes—dear,”’ be answered, not at all dissarbed hy his news. He bent his head and brusbed her lips with a peculiar, absent tenderness, asa pre- occupied man caresses a dear child while he follows his thooghts. Winifred struggled free. Sne looked about to ery ; instead, she made a face at him. “On, I didu’s mean to leave him— stupid !"’ whe cried. And through the ress of the evening she nestled brooding at his wide, coax ax he would he could get no word of enlightenment ons of her. But the next evening when be came she ran to him, and put ap her sols, wilful mouth for Kisses, her arms about his neck. *'Can’s you come here tc me, master ?'’ she whispered, and then hid her face on his shoulder. At lass, when he had coaxed her so let him lift it, like a burning rose, aud wipe away the tears, she talked to him quite frankly. **I wans you all the time,” she said with wilful passion. “It’s so long waiting sill evening, and then so often you don’t come —yon can’t come ! And when youdo come, and they send for you and take yon away | from me, I hate shem—the poor, poor sick people! It’s wicked for me todo thas, and yoo don’t want to make me do any- thing wicked, do yon? And is 's bad for me besides, master; it really is. It 's ruin- ing my disposition —and it makes my hear- baat. Bas if I conld bave youn every min- ute they dou’t need you,—every little min- ute, —I ’d be #0 good and so grateful ! Ob, I hate you for making me heg youn!" And then she tried to wrench away from him ; and she ove desirable thing bad seemed to him just to be able to keep her there against his breast. So it bad been arranged as lass. In the interval of uncertainty Winifred bad kept him in a continuous fume of nneasiness. She had never once pressed her point, and she bad continued to make faces at him in the old way when he displeased her ; bus she had grown steadily paler and thinner and more listless, and sometimes he caught her smiling at him in a wan, inscrutable way that set him wild with a nameless ap- prehension. Yes, he had good reason to know something of the vital bold Wini- fred’s passion bad taken npon her. Surely it was not in human natore deliberately to | shake such a faith. It would be shaking "the tender tree of her life at its roots, Then, suddenly, something spoke decisively in the man’s spirit. she whis- “That is why you mast sell. Your honor against her faith—they must balance.” What was it that spoke? The man did not know. He only knew that at last he bad been beaten. He mast tell Winifred. Bat how ? Bitterer, alinost, than the origi- pal straggle was the recoil of his pride when be tried to find the words in which he should tell her—Winilred, of all the women in the world ! It seemed moustrous, impossible. What bad Winifred to do with the crude miseries of a boy of twenty, twen- ty years ago? Indeed, what had he todo with them ? Yet, alas! the boy had been himeell, And surely there was something in the fact, in that white wrath of his single hearted youth, that was less sordid than, that be bad quite failed to foresee, COD: | 13414 daughter, liked him, too; she grew | ly to like him so much that she broke her en- | He had began to foresee it, vaguely but ooo... 000 10 me. And then, one night, | persistently, only a few weeks before that po, 1 hanced to be in my room at work, she came to my door and knocked. agony, which she was trying to couceal. | She asked me to some to the sittiog-roow, | for Winitred. The doctor bad looked at’ 51 followed her at once. I remember how she sat down uncertainly, her hand | flattering at her throat, her eyes wide with Aud, remember, I lov- She handed me a litsle empty bot- ‘I've taken it,’ she said; and then she misery and terror. ed her. tle. toid me why. “We tried to save her; hut she died that A few weeks later, the man's en- gagement was announced. His fiancee was a bandrome young woman whom she other girl had known only ae she saw ber sowe- times getting in and oot of her carriage. “ One night there was a sort of informal banquet, celebrating the close of the year's I had never heen given to drinking ; my absorption in my work bad kept me from any special Bat now I had got to the point where I would do anything to forget night. work at the medical school. temptation. the horrible ohsession of hate that me, ed me, or so 1 believed. her of other fellows happened in. oat of his way. ress woree than any cannot describe their effect upon me. ferred jokingly to his past record. her. 1 was as sober as I am tonight. “I was convicted, imprisoned, and short- ly afterward, pardoned. Winifred, Wini- fred ! I have told youn. It is nineteen years ago, and even yet the taste of that disgrace is in my wouth. Even yet I cannot be as mach ashamed of the crime as I am of the unatterable sell-abasement of these six months. As woon as I was out, I came to this Western country, where nobody kuew me —where nobody yet knows. “The rest you know. Since then I bave kept a record for conduct such as few men Bas I know—I have hecome strangely aware vince I have known you— that mv morality has heen singalarly sel. fish and pradential —only an intense moral I have heen a moral man without being a good mau. My repentauce —you see | am doing wy best to be honest with you, Winifred—has been of a curions I think you would I bave suffered all these years, as intervals, a sort of spiritual nausea, an intolerable disgust | P 80 sordid and shameful; a resentment against the irony of circumstances, or of my own vatare, that involved me in it. That has been my strongess feeling. But I have not dwelt upon it, even in my repentance ; have pus the recurring memory aside, with the most passionate antipathy. I was shink- have been horn a pagan ; my dislike of moral uncleanness seems esthetic rather than spiritual. And von caunot imagine how this feeling has grown and intensified since I bave loved you—aye, since you have loved me, I'd I had almost forgotten it was there, this ugly old secret, until I met youn. Your otter trust bas fivally made silence can show, fastidionsness. kind all my life since. hardly have called it repentance. at having heen involved in avything ing this evening tbat I mast hetter say. intolerable. “I wonder if the fear that you might some some day chance to discover is, and havea horror of me for not selling, has entered into my decision at all ? Oh, little spotless obild, I don’t know | Bas I think I could have risked anything rather than drag this corpse of shame into the snowy room of a young girl's life. Ever since that time of my early manhood I bave kept such things, with a sort of passionate distaste, out of my own life. So I can appreciate better than most men what I am doing You cannot you, not, I really shink not, Winifred. old when I bring this into yours. dream how I dread its effects upon whatever you may decide to do with me. “I have said that my repentance has heen chiefly intellectual, chiefly esthetic. That was true, I think, notil to-night. To- night, when I decided to tell you, my heart, worn by its loug avguish, seemed aware of new forces ; I seemed to know what you good people mean by ‘God.’ “I bave lived the anguish of a moral straggle, little one, though so late ; try to horrow a charity beyond your years and experience, and be merciful to me—and to yourself ! And yes, Winitred, that strange, you makes me mor- help thinking that ble years in your sight. I know you will keep on loving me if you oan § but, oh, my dear ! perhaps you can: “There is but one thought that brings Whatever you decide to imperious in tally afraid. I cannot all these comparativel will be the greatest me any comfort. 1 saw been prescribing for the old man, who was | instantly from her face shat she was in great Even it I had not cared for her, the injustice of the thing would have madden- We had been drinking till after midnight, when a vam- He was among them. Up to this time I bad kept Now the mere sight of him sobered me ; bat it was a sober mad- drunken frenzy. Everything about him I bad liked—the easy prosperity, the frank friendlies] e others were congratulating him upon his approaching marriage. Then somebody re- Not to the poor girl who was dead,—God knows, that must have slipped ont of their drunken hrains for the nioment, or even they would have kept silent, —bat to other girls like He stood with bis hands in his pock- ets, and laughed. And I shot him. And “I'm afraid that wakened him ! window and looked in. from his mind. attack ?’’ he asked sharply. | time heing, | him. It’s heen an awfully bad ove. | oouldn’s get you, | best would stop with [right. back from heaven !"’ doctor, anxiously. watch the alter effects, you know.” | his face as he beut aver her. an awfal day, Winifred,’’ he said. For a moment she shivered, it against her oheek. said bravely. The y Winifred power of amaziug the doctor. aware of a foolish ways io bis sighs. with a watronly air. “You're getting demoralized,” Winifred. with an apron thas never comes off ?"’ And the handsome, plain old furniture, purring fire in the grate. waking spirit, with authority. a ion, wish delighs. his band. ed, with the duster in mid-air. a hook, he had uncovered a letter. I realized that it was his own. not been broken. The dootor stood staring at is. ten. Winifred, then, had never seen it. Thas was the importaut thing ; Winifred did not know. For a moment the room seemed to spin bright blur in his sight. Then he stepped quickly to the grate and dropped into the coals. He stood watching is burn. Presently bis wife looked over her shoald- er at him as she played. ‘What are you burning ?"’ she asked with a prettily ex. aguerated assuption of censorship. The doctor resumed his dusting. ‘‘An back is tarned ?"’ Auvd Winifred, her eyes upon her mau- gio, tilted her rosy chin and smiled loftily. Magazine Every seventh year, so science teaches, is then most liable to he attacked by dis- ease and less able to fight off such an at- tack. Just watch the record of deaths in your newspaper oolamns and note how many people die about forty-nine, the sev- eath recarring period of seven years. This is the climacteric period of bauman life, There is no doanbt that the hody may be fortified against disease, and physical vital- ity increased hy the use of Dr. Pierce's Gelden Medical Discovery. Thousands and have declared that they owe their lives to Dr. Pierce's wonderfal ** » Dr. Pierce's Pleasant Pellets are very tive in cleansing the bedy of foul accumu- disease. Do von hear anything ?'’ She tiptoed to the long | Instantly the doctor was oo the alert. | Long hahit drove everything else, for the ‘““*Another Winifred looked at bim wonderingly. “Didn’s yon know ?'’ ahe whispered, as {she came back and nestled again beside “I supposed Emma had told yoo. | And we! aud she other doctors | don'ts know anything, and I shonght my I knew you could do everything else, but—'' she looked adoringly up into his eyes—* I wasn’t sure you could bring the old angel | tory or historical “I'll step in and look at him,’’ said the “Do you know what they gavehim? Who was it? We must Then alter a few quick steps, he turned back to ber. A spasm of pity and remorse crossed ‘You've had looking | piteously up at him with fascinated, back- ward-gazing eyes. Then she resolately banished the lingering botror, and, smil. ing up at him with a wan, indomitable sweesness, she took his hand and pressed “But now that I've got you back again, nothing matters,” she had heen married a fortnight, and bad again demonstrated her He was longing to keep her ai- One day he came home a trifle early to luncheon, and found her in | the library, dostjog the chairs and tables said “What do you mean, a busy man like you, hy coming home early to lanch—and me, like Mrs, Joe Gargery, He stood on the threshold, with a hand on each doorpost, and looked in at the tine, mellow old room. The old professor's books—what a distinguished array of them! and the girl, so absurdly young, iv the midss—his girl, bis wife! Tt was a crisp, early morning, and there was a pleasant, It seemed the very shrine and eauctuary of she home- His eye rested upon the open piano, littered with Winified’s masio. He saddenly bad the inspiration to ask his wife to play for him. She bad not played for him wince he had the right to ask her “I'm dusting,” with an air of great beorpt “I'll dust; you go play.” He kissed hey cheek as he took the duster out of ber haud. For a moment Winifred stood watching his elaborately conscientious movements Then, with a sudden duti- folness, she went to the piano and began to lay. The doctor dusted happily away, the in- congruons implement behaving clumsily in Then suddenly he stood arrest. In moving It was addressed to Winifred. He noticed that the handwriting was familiar before he The seal bad Then suddenly the facts fell into their true rela- tions in his mind. The servant bad been careless : in the fright of the old professor’s sudden illness, the lester had been forgos- around. Winifred’s golden head was a the lester old love-letter, of conrse,”’ hie said. ‘*What else should a man burn when his wife's —By Charlotte Wilson, in the Cenfwry the vitality of the hody is at its lowest. It have proven the truth of this statement lations which promote the development of mined citizens, we have first, sitnated io the center of four blocks of city gronnd presented to the State for thai por- pose, second to none in its architectural completeness and adaptability, and which cost $3,000,000, builded by day’s labor, aod without the evidence, or even suspi- gion, of the embarrassing information of the peculiar methods employed, as gleaned from the home papers of our native State, as to a similar structure. Foor other build- iog* ou adjoining grounds constitute the States’ holdings here, the chief one of the | sdjancts heing the $500,000 Hall of His huilding, all situated on | # commanding eminence to he seen from | almost all parts of the city,and in some in- stances, from twenty miles in the country. A modern, up-to-date cours house, just completed, at a cost of $800,000 ; a public library, (not a Carnegie) $350,000 ; av | $800,000 postoflice building now under con- struction, and many other buildings of a public nature. Within the city limits are the state fair grounds, representing an iv- vestment of $2,500,000 ; and in these con- nections we might note that all of the de- partments of the State government and headguarters of the State institutions are located here. These with nizety-eight charoh buildings, forty-nine public school buildings, twelve colleges and universities, a colosseum in process of building that will seat 14,000 people ; nineteen banks and ten opera houses, indicate that there is something doing at the “Forks.” Every railroad in the State, with but one exception, enters the city, and under the nine trunk lines, we have nineteen railroads with fifty-six steam passenger trains daily, in and ou: of the city, besides interurban electrics, operating some three hundred miles of road, from north, south, east and west with fifsy-nine daily trains in and out ; all of which means no small amount of passenger traffic. Our street traction system can he rated second to none in monicipalities of oor olass. Electrio cars are in operation twenty-four hours of the day, with three to ten minute service from six a. m. vo midnight and hourly the six after-miduoight hours, radiating in all directions from a central loop in the bus- iness district, for a five cent fare, transfers being given for a trip beyond the central station. All portions of the city can be reached with but very little inconvenience, all cars passing by, or within a block of all 1ailroad stations. Iu public utilities we bave eighty-two miles of brick and asphalt paved atieets, tour hundred miles of hrick and concrete walks, one hundred and twenty-five miles of gas mains, one hundred avd fifty-one miles of carhing, one hundred and ten sixteen miles of sewerage, and nineteen bridges within the city limits span the two rivers—eight railroad aud eleven for pub- lie traffic. Over 13,000 telephones are used hy our people with rural connections with every hamlet in the State and with a large wa- jority of she individual farmers. Thirty two hotels, forty-five insurance, six ex- press and two telegraph companies. Six. ty-nine newspapers and periodicals. The dailies alone have a combined circulation of 120,000 copies, while the farm and sg- rienltural publications boast of 520,000. Thirty-one coal mines adjacent to the city have a monthly pay roll of $245,000. While we make no pretentions as to a man- ufacturing point yet, during the past year some twenty odd new industries located here, prodacing from toilet articles to trac- tion engines. It is originally, the home of the pop- ular Chamberlain medicines that can be found in every drug store in the United States, Canada and almost everywhere elee —and so we might keep on with what we imagine some readers might term “hot air,” but, if some of our old friends, whom we visited a few years ago, that hinted of our new found home as being of the “‘way out” or “wild aud woolly’ country kind, wiil accept our invitation to give us a call, we ventare to say that we will send them tiome with a sound conviction that condi. tions are reversed. And why not? The solid foundation of the population of this country was travsplanted from Mid- ! dle and Eastern States aud the staid old miles of water mains, one hundred and | i i i a State boase, | houses, horse barns, large riding pavilion for company drill in bad weather, in fact all kinds of necessary buildivgs, faced with pressed brick, covered with slate roof- ing, turnace heat, hos and cold water, gas, electricity, sewer, telephone, everything that the most exacting could wish for in the way of comfort and convenience ; a seven hundred acre rifle range for target practice, all systematically treated by landscape artists, graded, parked, planted with ample shade trees and grasses, fine driveways, cement walks, an immense pa- rade ground, and after folly inspecting these two places of recreation we wager that they go home and look aroond for some one they can call a prevaricator. Des Moines owns herself as much so as the home owner with a very small encum- hrance. Seventy per cent. of the people live in their own homes. Over ninety per cent. of the business property is owned by Des Moines people. On eighteen consecu- | tive blocks of two of the principal business streets, there is but one hundred and ten feet frontage that is not owned locally. Street car system, telephone, Inmber yards, coal miues, a valuable railroad terminal with Union station, jobbing houses, bauks, factories, newspapers and periodicals, all controlled and operated hy local capital. With this roughly sketched information kept in mind is need not he considered sar- prising when we state that one hundred and eighty-three conventions held their sessions here. lo the month of May, 1908, seventeen such gathering voted to bold their next meetings hers, and in Jane foar- teen others did likewise, Passing up our city, with the foregoing, as to 18s present conditions, a future com- munication may show the contrass, with forty years intervening, and in connection therewith some experience in agricultural lines. S. W. BAKER. Des Moines, Ia., Jan. 23, 1909. [To be continued.} To look well you must he well. When the figure loses ite roundness and the lace its fatness, there is some disease at work which is robbing the hody of its vitality. That disease will generally be found prey- ing upon the delicate womanly organs. The sarest way to look well, therefore, is to get well, and the sore way to get well is to use Dr. Pierce's Favosite Prescription. Thousands of women have been cured by its ose, and many have expressed wonder aud delight at the restoration of their good looks, with the core of local disease. Dr. Pierce's Pleasant Pellets assist the action of ‘Favorite Presotiption,’”’ when there is a constipated hahit of hody to overcome. LEFT FORTUNE TO CHARITY Philadelphia Woman Remembers Ne- gro Schools In the South. Philadelphia, Feb. 2.—Hampton Nor- mal and Agricultural institute, of Hampton, Va., and Tuskegee Norma! and Industrial institute, of Tuskeges, Ala., both educational institutions for negroes, and the Children’s hospital. of this city, were the principal bene- ficiaries of a large list in the will of Miss Mary Lewis, eighty-two years old. daughter of Mordecal Lewis, former merchant of this city. The will dis- posed of about $125,000 to charity. Oldest Postmistress Resigns. Greenville. Pa., Feb, 2.—Mrs. Mary McCoy, aged eighty-six years, said to be the oldest woman postmaster in the United States, has resigned her position at Sheakleyville, Pa., which she filled for forty years. Mrs. McCoy was appointed by President’ Johnson, and in the early years of her service carried mail from Meadville in addi- tion to performing her other duties. Dragged Body From Fire With Hook. Pittsburg, Feb. 2.—Using a long pole with a hook un the end, friends drag- gel the body of Joseph Verner from his burning home at Point Marion, Pa. Attracted by flames, neighbors rushed to the house to find Verner lying un- conscious on the floor of the burning building. Unable to reach him, they dragged his body out with the hook, but not till he was fatally burned. Makes Burglary Capital Offense. Austin, Tex., Feb. 2.—The house of representatives passed a bill making burglary of residences at night a capi- tal offense. It is said the senate will pass the measure and that it will be approved by the governor.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers